Phantom Traveler AU
by IDieOnTheInside
Summary: Based on season 1 episode 4 "Phantom Traveler" – AU where Sam goes on the airplane by himself. This has two endings, one happy and one sad. They are labeled, so read what you feel like reading. Sad ending is expanded!
1. Trouble on Board

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.**

* * *

"Right there; they're boarding in thirty minutes." Sam pointed at the board announcing all the flight boarding times.

"Okay," Dean huffed, catching his breath after running into the airport. "We still have some cards to play. We need to find a phone." Dean started off to find a phone. Finding one attached to the wall, Dean picked it up.

 _Airport services._

"Hi, Gate 13."

 _Who are you calling, sir?_

"I'm trying to contact an Amanda Walker, she's a flight attendant on flight, um, flight 424."

The female voice is broadcasted through the whole airport. _Amanda Walker, Amanda Walker you have a phone call from Gate 13._

"C'mon." Dean huffed into the receiver as the line remained silent on the other end.

"This is Amanda Walker." The female voice on the other end caused a flood of relief to fill Dean. He could save her from the demon, but he needed an excuse to keep her off the flight.

"Miss Walker. Hi, this is Doctor James Hetfield from the Saint Francis Memorial Hospital. We have a Karen Walker here." Sam was leaning in close, trying to hear what Amanda's answer would be.

"Karen?" Dean almost felt bad about causing Amanda to worry. Almost.

"It's nothing serious, just a minor car accident, but she was injured, so-"

"Wait wait wait, that can't be possible. I just got off the phone with her."

Shit. "You what?" Sam leaned even closer, concern written on his features.

"Five minutes ago. She's at her house cramming... for... a final. Who is this?" Suspicion was evident in Amanda's voice.

Dean floundered for a good excuse. "Um, must be some mistake..."

Amanda sounded pissed as well as confused. "And how would you even know I was here?" After a pause, Amanda lowered her voice. "Is this one of Vince's friends?"

Dean shrugged at Sam. "Guilty as charged." An awkward laugh escapes Dean's lips.

"This is unbelievable." Amanda was angry again.

"He's... really... sorry."

"Well, you tell him to mind his own business and stay out of my life, okay?"

Dean was grasping at straws in a last ditch attempt to keep Amanda off that plane. "Yes, BUT he really needs to see you, tonight, so-"

"No, I'm sorry, it's too late."

"Don't be like that. I mean, c'mon, the guy's a mess. Really. It's... pathetic." Like this cover story.

Amanda's tone softened. "Really?"

"Oh yeah." He's got her.

"Look, I've got to go. Um, tell him to call me when I land."

Damn it, nope nope nope! "Nono, wait. Amanda!" The click of the call ending was like knives cutting through him. Amanda was going to board that plane, and she was going to die, and it was all Dean's fault. "Damn it! I was so close."

Sam shook his head. "Alright, it's time for Plan B: we're getting on that plane."

Dean's eyes widened. "W-w- Now just hold on a second."

"Dean, the plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers on board, and if we're right," Sam glances around to make sure he's not overheard, "that plane's gonna crash."

"I know!" Dean's voice was far too high for his liking.

"Okay, we need to get on that plane, we need to find that demon, and we need to exorcise it." Sam couldn't see why Dean was being so difficult. People's lives were at risk! "I'll get the tickets, you just got, get whatever you can out of the trunk, whatever'll make it past security. Meet me here in five minutes." Dean didn't budge. "Are you okay?"

Dean paused, shrugged, and made a face. "No, not really."

Sam was confused. "Why? What's wrong?"

Dean was whispering now. "Well, I kinda have this problem with, um..." Dean was waving his hand up and down, gave up and sighed.

Sam's eyebrows went up as he figured it out. "Flying?"

Dean got defensive. "Well, it's never really been an issue until now."

"You're joking, right?" Sam couldn't believe his older brother was afraid of flying. Of all the things to be scared of, he was scared - no, terrified - of flying.

"Do I look like I'm joking?! Why do you think I drive everywhere, Sam?"

Sam had to figure out a plan to save the people on the plane, but Dean was limiting his options. They only had about twenty minutes left now. "Alright, uh, I'll go."

Dean's wide eyes got impossibly wider. "What?!"

"I'll do this one on my own."

"What are you, nuts?" Dean wasn't about to let his brother go on that death trap! "You said it yourself; the plane's gonna crash."

Sam spoke quickly. "We can do this together or I can do this by myself. I'm not seeing a better option here."

"C'mon." Dean looked around as if the answer to his problems would just appear. "Really? Man." Another couple more mumbling complaints, Dean nodded. "Five minutes."

Sam ran up with the tickets. "Let's go, man. Fifteen minutes and counting."

Dean was sitting on the ground, his back against the wall, knees pulled up to his chest. The bag was lying off to the side. "I don't know if I can do this, Sam."

Sam knelt down next to Dean. "Dude, are you alright. Dean, what - are you shaking?"

Dean's entire body was trembling ever so slightly, as his breathing was short and shallow. Sam knew what he had to do.

Scooping up the bag by Dean's side, Sam stood up. "I'll see you when I get off."

Dean lifted his head up, yelling, "SAM!" as he struggled to get his shaky legs underneath him.

Chasing after Sam, Dean's heart fell as he saw Sam clear security and board the plane. He was too late. Sam had the other ticket, Dean's ticket, so Dean couldn't go after him. Sam was on his own in a plane that was destined to crash, and there was nothing Dean could do.

* * *

Sam took a deep breath as he settled down into his seat. Dean was probably freaking out right now, for multiple reasons, but he'd understand. Dean's probably already jumped into the Impala and is flooring it to get to the plane's destination right now. Sam smiled a little to himself at that.

The buckle your seatbelts sign lit up and Sam buckled in. He was in for the flight of his life.

Eight minutes later, Sam decided the plane had been in the air long enough to warrant him walking around. Only thirty-two more minutes left before the plane crashed. Only thirty-two more minutes left to find out who the demon is possessing and do a full-on exorcism.

Sam knew the demon would probably possess someone who was uneasy during this flight, and, considering how Amanda's last flight ended, he figured the flight attendant would be the perfect vessel. Standing up, Sam made his way towards the back of the plane. A flight attendant was getting a cart full of cups and drinks ready when he made it to the back.

A bit of turbulence threw Sam off balance and he leaned against the wall.

The flight attendant smiled. "Uneasy flyer?"

Sam smiled, the irony not lost on him. "Hehe, yeah." He checked her name tag: Amanda. Bingo.

"It happens to the best of us." She smiled again. "Can I get you anything?"

Sam gave a small shrug. "I just feel better walking around the plane you know? Although, you do this for a living so flying must come easily to you." Sam looked for any signs of obvious distress, but she seemed to be fairly calm.

"Well, you'd be surprised."

Sam's eyebrows rose. Maybe she's already possessed and that's why she's so calm. "How can this be your job and yet you're a nervous flyer?" Sam wracked his brain for a subtle way to figure out if she's a demon or not. Demons are supposed to flinch when they hear God's name, so maybe he could casually say God? But that's too obvious.

"That's a long story." Amanda obviously wasn't comfortable talking about it.

Sam decided to let it drop. "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

"It's okay. Listen, everyone is afraid of something. I don't want this to hold me back, so I'm trying to get past it." Amanda smiled.

Sam smiled. He really hoped she wasn't possessed. Remembering something his dad used to tell him, Sam muttered, "Christo."

Amanda tilted her head. "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

Sam cleared his throat. "I-it's nothing. Just a cough." With that, Sam walked back to his seat.

He had to give Amanda some credit. She's really well adjusted. She almost died in the last plane she flew in, but here she is, calm as ever. The demon could be in just about anyone in the crowded plane. Sam had his work cut out for him.

Bending down to the bag at his feet, Sam pulled out a leather-bound book. It was full of different spells and incantations. He skimmed through the pages until he found an exorcism he thought might work. It had two parts, but Sam didn't really have the luxury of finding another, shorter exorcism at the moment. The first part takes the demon out of the vessel, making it more powerful, and the second part drags the demon back to hell. This was one hell of an exorcism. Reaching into the bag, Sam pulled out a clear water bottle and shoved it in the inside pocket of his jacket. He was hoping Dean had packed holy water and not just a water bottle for shits and giggles.

What Sam saw next almost made him laugh out loud. Dean's homemade EMF detector made out of an old Walkman radio was in the bag. He would never make fun of that hunk of junk again.

Sam plugged the earbuds in his ears and made another lap around the plane, slowly waving his Walkman side to side to see if anyone gave off any demonic vibes. The only thing that ever happened to the Walkman was a shrill noise in Sam's ear as he passed a guy with headphones blasting music. Sam got to the front of the plane and checked his watch. Only fifteen minutes left to find and exorcise this demon, and Sam had no idea what else to do.

As Sam was about to give up on the hunk of junk in his hands, the Walkman's lights turned red and the familiar sound of the EMF detector went off in the earbuds. Sam glanced up to see the co-pilot walk out of the bathroom.

"Christo."

The co-pilot froze and glanced over his shoulder, looking back just enough for Sam to see his eyes were black. The co-pilot was the demon.

Sam walked as calmly back to his seat as he could and put the Walkman back into the bag. How the hell was he supposed to exorcise the freaking co-pilot? Sam's only chance was to get help. This would've been a nice time to have Dean by his side. With no other option and only twelve minutes left, Sam once again left his seat and headed to the back of the plane.

Amanda turned around when she heard Sam walk up to her. "Oh, hi. The flight's not too bumpy, I hope?"

Sam shut the curtains leading to the cabin. "That's what I need to talk to you about."

"Um, okay. What can I do for you?"

"I know this is sounds weird, but I know you were on flight 2485."

Amanda narrowed her eyes. "Who are you guy?"

"I've talked to some of the other survivors, and I know something brought down that plane. It wasn't mechanical failure. I need your help to stop it from happening again."

Amanda tried pushing past Sam. "I'm sorry, but I'm very busy-"

Sam put his hand on her shoulder. "Look, there was something wrong with flight 2485, and maybe you sensed it and maybe you didn't, but there's something wrong with this flight, too. You've got to believe me!"


	2. Happy Ending

Amanda looked at the ground and started shuffling her feet. "On 2485 there was this uh, this man. He had these eyes-"

"Yes! That's exactly what I'm talking about."

Amanda backed up. "But I don't understand what you're asking me to do."

"The co-pilot, I need you to bring him back here." Sam held up his hand to stop Amanda's protests. "I don't have time to explain, I just need to talk to him. Please, people's lives are at stake."

"Well, how am I supposed to go into the cockpit and get the co-pilot back here?"

Sam was desperate, pleading. "Do whatever it takes. Tell him something is broken back here; whatever will get him out of that cockpit."

Amanda rubbed her face with her hands. "Do you know I could lose my job if I-"

"You're going to lose a lot more than that if you don't help me out! This is a life-or-death emergency, Amanda!" Sam's pleading eyes bore into Amanda's soul.

After a moment, she reluctantly nodded. "Okay."

Sam sighed in relief as Amanda walked across the plane to the cockpit door and knocked. Seeing the co-pilot and Amanda start to walk towards the back of the plane, Sam pulled out the holy water and leather-bound book and flipped to the exorcism he found earlier. As soon as the co-pilot walked through the curtain, Sam punched him, effectively knocking him to the floor. Carefully throwing the book to the floor, Sam tackled the co-pilot, throwing holy water on him. The holy water sizzled on the demon.

Amanda was not pleased. "What are you doing?! I thought you said you were just going to talk to him?!"

Sam did not have time for this. "Amanda, please! I need you outside the curtain keeping everyone out of here. Do not let anyone else in here. Can you do that? Amanda! This man is possessed by a demon, and I can't exorcise him if people run in here asking questions Can you guard the door?"

Amanda nodded, to Sam's relief, and left, shutting the curtain behind her.

Looking to book on the floor, Sam started to read the exorcism while simultaneously trying to subdue the demon. The Latin was occasionally interrupted with a grunt as Sam was almost thrown off the demon, and he'd have to throw more holy water on the rebelling demon. About three-quarters of the way through the first part of the exorcism, the demon knocked the holy water out of Sam's hands and threw him backwards into the wall. Sam reacted quickly, dropping a leg down hard of the demon's ribcage to keep it from standing and finished reading the rest of the first part of the exorcism.

As the demon was trying to resist the pull of the exorcism, it spat, "I know what happened to your girlfriend. Even now she burns!" The demon was expelled from the mouth and shot into the vents. With a quick glance at his watch, Sam blanched. It was officially forty minutes after the flight took off. It was time for the plane to crash.

The plane lurched forwards, sending the Sam flying into the wall and the book flying into the cabin. Sam started to crawl after the book, trying to keep moving even against the shaking and dropping of the airplane.

Everyone was screaming and the emergency breathing apparatuses fell from the roof. Sam crawled across the aisle, eyes on the book. The airplane was falling faster and faster. Everyone was growing more and more panicked. Sam made one last pull and his body lurched forward, putting the book within reach. Frantically flipping through the book, Sam found the page he was looking for. Screaming to be heard above the noise, Sam shouted the second part of the exorcism.

Sam finished the exorcism and slammed the book shut. The airplane stopped descending and slowly rose back to normal altitudes. Sam closed his eyes in relief and took a deep breath. He did it. Everyone was okay. Sam couldn't suppress his smile as the pilot tried to assure everyone the 'mild turbulence' was over.

* * *

The airport wouldn't allow anyone to leave the airplane until they were checked out by the paramedics. After assuring the paramedics he was fine, Sam walked out of the terminal. A familiar face greeted him.

"Sam!" Dean's frantic yell was unmistakable. Dean ran up to Sam and pulled him into a tight embrace. Pulling back, he scolded, "Don't you EVER do something as stupid as that ever again, do you hear me?"

Dean's worry was etched into every part of his face. Sam smiled, happy he was able to live long enough to see it again. "Yeah, I hear you."

Content with Sam's answer, Dean pulled him into another tight hug.

This time, Sam pulled away. "Hey, how many speed limits did you break trying to get here before me?"

The worry temporarily left Dean's face. "You don't even wanna know."


	3. Sad Ending

**Warning: Major character death! Read at your own risk.**

* * *

Amanda pulled her shoulder out of Sam's grip and backed up to the opposite wall. "If you come any closer to me, I will scream. I'm just trying to have a peaceful flight and you come in here with information on me and you start talking nonsense. I'll either have you arrested or sent to an insane asylum when we land if you don't go back to your seat and stay there!"

Sam threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. "How can you not see it? There was man with black eyes on flight 2485 that wrenched open the hatch of the plane and caused it to crash. You were one of the survivors. The pilot of flight 2485 is now dead from another plane crash. Is that not suspicious? Two plane crashes in two months. Please, Amanda, you've got to listen to me! More people are going to die!"

Amanda worried her bottom lip. "What is it I'm doing?"

Sam let out the breath he had been holding. "The co-pilot, I need you to bring him back here." Sam held up his hand to stop Amanda's protests. "I don't have time to explain, I just need to talk to him. Please, people's lives are at stake."

"Well, how am I supposed to go into the cockpit and get the co-pilot back here?"

Sam was desperate, pleading. "Do whatever it takes. Tell him something is broken back here; whatever will get him out of that cockpit."

Amanda walked to the front of the airplane and knocked on the door to the cockpit. The co-pilot came out and, after talking to Amanda, started to make his way to the back of the plane.

Sam hurriedly got out the leather-bound book and holy water. There wasn't much time left now. As soon as the co-pilot walked through the curtain, Sam punched him, effectively knocking him to the floor. Amanda gasped and stepped between Sam and the co-pilot.

"What are you doing?! I thought you said you were just going to talk to him?!"

Sam pushed Amanda out of the way and jumped on the co-pilot, punching him again. "He's a demon! I have to exorcise him." Sam went to throw holy water on the co-pilot when he felt a shove from the side. Amanda had pushed him off the co-pilot! The demon's eyes turned black as it turned towards Sam, smiled, and knocked him out with a blow to the head.

* * *

Dean was pacing nervously back and forth in front of Gate 13. He couldn't throw the feeling that something was wrong, wrong, wrong! Would Sam be fine? Dean didn't care if the whole airplane burned to a crisp as long as his brother was okay.

Glancing at the estimated times of arrival, Dean's heart stopped. There was no estimated time of arrival. Instead, the board said SEE AGENT. Dean hurried over to closest flight personnel he could find.

"Hey, uh, what's going on? Why does that say SEE AGENT? My brother's on that flight! I need to know what's happening." Dean was talking fast, worry lacing his voice. The woman gave Dean a sympathetic look led him to a small room, telling him to wait there.

After the longest minute ever, a man walked into the room. Dean stopped his pacing and turned towards the door, eager for information on his brother.

"Mr. Winchester, please have a seat." The man motioned to the plush chair as he sat in his own.

Dean didn't move. "What happened to the flight?"

"I suggest you sit, Mr. Winchester." The name plate on the desk said WINSLOW.

Dean grudgingly sat down on the edge of his seat, his eyes boring holes into Winslow's head.

Winslow leaned forward and rested his elbow on the desk. "Mr. Winchester, I'm very sorry to tell you this, but the airplane your brother took off in never made it here. It crashed forty minutes into the flight. Our rescue responders only found rubble and the burnt remains of the crash site. No one survived. I'm extremely sorry. If there's anything we can..."

Winslow's voice faded. Dean only heard a loud buzzing in his ears accompanied with one phrase: No one survived. No one survived. No one survived...

Dean fell back into the chair, his whole body going limp. Sam, his brother, his best friend, was gone. He didn't even get a proper hunter's funeral, either.

"Mr. Winchester? Are you alright? You look positively green." Winslow's voice slowly fades back in.

Dean takes a deep breath and steels his nerves. He's got to be strong for Sammy. "Can I have my brother's body? I'd like to give him a proper funeral." Dean's voice caught on body. He cleared his throat, vowing not to let it happen again.

Winslow grimaced. "The thing is, Mr. Winchester, we're not entirely sure which body is your brothers'. The remains we found were charred, but not everyone's body was on the plane."

Dean perked up. "So my brother could still be alive?!"

Winslow patted the air, trying to calm Dean down. "The wreckage we found was tremendous. No one could've survived that kind of crash."

"But you didn't find all the bodies?" Dean scrambled to find a reason his brother was alive, anything would do.

Winslow shook his head. "I do not want to give you false hope. I would start calling loved ones and breaking the news. I'm sure your parents would want to know-"

"Did you find all the bodies?!"

Winslow sighed. "No, but they could've been burned so much they've turned to ash, or, sadly, the animals might've gotten to the bones first. We just can't be sure."

Dean stood up. "Thank you for telling me." Without another word, Dean marched from the room and made a beeline for the Impala. He had research to do.

* * *

 **Hi guys! I hope you enjoyed reading _Phantom Traveler AU_. I have a plan to expand this storyline if y'all would like me to. If not, I'll leave it as is.**


	4. Bad News

**And by popular request (meaning the whole two of you,** _ **Karen Winchester**_ **and** _ **emelie0204**_ **) here is yet another chapter! Sorry it's so short, but it flowed better stopping here. Thank y'all for your reviews!  
**

* * *

Dean threw his phone across the motel in frustration. His dad _still_ wasn't answering his phone, and it was making Dean angry. Did he really not care about Sam? Was he too wrapped up trying to find mom's killer that his son's welfare wasn't on his radar?

Fine. If dad wanted to be left out, that was fine with Dean. He would just find Sammy on his own. Opening Sam's laptop, Dean searched for the location of the plane crash and where the current rubble was. If Sammy was still alive - which Dean knew he was - he would've left behind some sort of clue as to where the demon took him or where he crawled off to, injured, into the woods.

Dean felt a twinge of pain in his heart thinking about Sam being injured. This was all his fault. Why couldn't he have gotten over his fear and boarded the plane? Who knows what kind of help he could've been? Sammy could be lying in a cave, leg shredded, right now and it was all Dean's fault. No. Dean can't afford to think like that right now. Sam needed help ASAP, and in order to help him, Dean needed to get moving.

* * *

Sam opened his eyes to see dark clouds overhead, and, as he lay there listening, he thought the woods seemed eerily calm. Only the faintest of noises could be heard, the insects and animals seeming to hold their breath. Sitting up, Sam saw the clouds were not actually clouds but a plume of smoke coming from somewhere to his left.

Sam stood up and cautiously started to walk towards the source of the smoke when a loud explosion sounded. Sam jumped, startled. He started to run towards the explosion when a voice sounded behind him.

"You can't do anything to help them, Sam."

Sam stopped dead in his tracks. Turning around, he saw a woman leaning against a tree, her curly black hair blowing in the slight breeze. "Who are you? And what the hell are you doing here?"

The woman smirked. "I'm Billie, and I'm here to bring you were you belong."

Sam was wary. Where he belonged? What was that supposed to mean? Was she a fellow hunter? Her brown leather jacket didn't show signs of wear and tear, so probably not. She looked pretty nice, as strangers you happen upon in the woods go.

Screams sounded behind Sam and caused him to turn.

Billie snapped her fingers, and the screams stopped. Everything stopped. The wind stopped, the few noises coming from the woods stopped, even the leaves currently falling stopped falling mid-air.

"What are you?" Sam turned on Billie, wishing he had a gun with him. It was then that Sam saw the broken body lying behind her. "What?"

Billie smiled. "I'm your Reaper, Sam. I'm here to take you to heaven."

* * *

"Homeland Security, I need to see the wreckage." Dean flashed his badge at the guy behind the counter. The guy gave Dean a passing glance and let him in.

Dean walked around the plane slowly, fear slipping in. The wreckage was tremendous, and Dean was worried Sam might've not made it out alive. As much as Dean hated to admit it, he didn't think anyone could survive this crash. The fuselage was ripped in half, the tail was in four different pieces, the engines were completely charred, and the cockpit was smashed into an unidentified mass.

A voice from behind Dean made him jump. "This isn't looking too good for Sammy."

Dean was shocked. Standing in a suit in front of him was his dad. "D-dad? Wha- why are you... I mean, you didn't..." Dean was at a loss for words. His dad's been off the radar for weeks and now he just pops up? He didn't even answer Dean's phone calls!

John held up a hand, stopping Dean's blubbering. "I know I have a lot to explain, but right now we need to examine the airplane. What do we know so far?"

Dean turned back to the mess behind him, his mask of professionalism slipping into place. "The exterior damage is extensive, although most of it, if not all of it, happened after the plane crashed. The demon who took this plane down had to have gone straight to the controls and shut them down."

"I checked with the flight manifest and talked my way into seeing photographs of the wreck someone had taken on site." John cleared his throat. "Sam was sitting in the middle of the plane, about one row back from where the plane split."

Silence filled the space between the two men. What else was there to say? Sam's odds were slim at best.

Dean was the first to break the silence. "Uh, well, we better get out of here before the real Homeland Security shows up. Me and Sam, we almost got caught looking at the last wreck."

John nodded, and they left without taking another look back.


	5. Where's Sam?

**Big thank you to _Shadowpletlove_ and _Kas3y_ for y'all's reviews! I love hearing back from you. _Kas3y_ : This chapter goes into what you were talking about, so I hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

Sam was at a loss for words. He kept looking between Billie and the broken body behind her. Reaper? That would mean he was dead, or almost dead. Sam thought it was most likely the former, considering the extensive damage done to the body - his body.

Billie walked towards Sam, who stood there motionless. "Sam, it's okay. I know leaving this world may seem scary, but it'll all be fine. You'll go to heaven and never have to worry again."

Sam wrenched his eyes away from his other self. "Do I have to go? How much time do I have to decide?"

Billie's eyes softened. "You could choose to stay on this world, but it'll change you. Over time you will become what you once hunted: an angry spirit. You can always change your mind, call me back, but I think it'd be better if you come right now."

"Who will know where I am? Who will give me the proper hunter's funeral?" Sam stopped. He hadn't been hunting for more than a week or two and already he was sucked back in, asking for a hunter's funeral. Did being out of the hunting life during college not matter? Did his time with Jessica-

Jessica. He still hadn't found Jessica's killer! He still hadn't avenged his dead girlfriend. What was he thinking?! Dying hadn't changed that! Sam could still find and kill the yellow-eyed demon. It'd probably be easier as a spirit anyways.

"Sam?" Billie asked, uneasy. She could probably see the fight going on in his head.

Sam straightened his shoulders and held his head high. "I will not be going with you."

Billie narrowed her eyes. "Are you sure that's the best idea? You-"

"Yes, I am sure. Unless you are going to drag me against my will, I am going to stay on Earth."

Sighing, Billie shook her head. "Call for me when you are ready." She stared Sam down. "Call. Me. You know what happens to spirits that stay on Earth too long."

With that, Billie disappeared.

Sam, remembering what had happened before Billie showed up, turned and ran towards the explosion from earlier. It wasn't long before Sam felt an invisible force holding him back. He couldn't go any farther. Sam had forgotten that spirits were tied to their bodies or an object of great personal meaning to them. He was stuck in the middle of the woods and he couldn't go anywhere.

* * *

Dean parked the Impala in a small clearing off the side of the road. He turned the car off and climbed out of the car, not wanting to look over at his dad in the passenger seat. Sammy's seat. Shutting the door behind him, Dean looked at the expanse of woods in front of him. Somewhere in these woods the plane, along with Sam, crashed.

"Let's get moving." John started walking off into the woods with Dean only a step behind him.

Fifteen minutes later, Dean could see a large clearing up ahead. He ran the rest of the way, ignoring John's shout of "Dean!"

Dean stopped in his tracks at the edge of the clearing, if it could even be called that. The trees had been flattened under the weight of the airplane, and some had been ripped from the ground entirely. The closest trees were black; they must've caught on fire after the plane crashed. The ground was completely burned, a black reminder of the carnage that took place.

"Let's survey the area, see if there's anything that might give us a clue as to what happened and where your brother might be if he got out."

Dean jumped at the sound of his dad's voice. He didn't even hear him walk up. Then the words sunk in.

"What do you mean 'if'? Sam got out alive! He's the smartest kid I know, and he did not die in that damned plane crash!" Dean's heart was racing; he was breathing fast.

John's face gave away nothing. The typical mask was in place. "Dean, we have to be practical-"

"I don't want to be practical! I want my brother back!" Dean was holding back tears, determined not to cry in front of his dad.

"Dean, we have to treat this like any other case. We can't get too emotionally invested in it."

Dean was furious. "Why the hell can't you take this seriously? Sam could be hurt somewhere out there and you want to me to put away my emotions? Where are your emotions? Don't you care about Sa-"

Dean was cut off by a hook to the jaw. He looked up in surprise to see John's mask gone and in its place a mix of anger and fear. "Don't you EVER say I don't care about Sam. I wish with every bone in my body that I haven't lost someone else I love, but we cannot let emotions cloud our judgement. We have to treat this like a normal case, otherwise we'll make mistakes. So get up and survey this damned clearing before I knock your head off your shoulders!" With that, the mask slipped back into place and John left to look for any sign of Sam.

Dean slowly stood back up as he rubbed his jaw. His dad was right. He couldn't go around letting his emotions cloud his judgement, but tucking them away was easier said than done. His big brother protective instincts were going crazy, and no matter how much Dean tried to suppress them, they kept resurfacing. Donning his own mask, Dean started to survey the clearing.

Half an hour later showed no results, and Dean was getting ready to punch the next bird who sung their stupid happy song. "I'm taking a walk!" He yelled, hoping his dad heard it.

Dean trekked through the woods, getting further and further from the crash site. Dean spotted a patch of moss and sat down, leaning against a tree. He closed his eyes and tried to relax, pulling his leather jacket tighter around him in the cool air of the shade.

Dean's eyes flew open and he jumped to his feet. Taking a deep breath, Dean breathed out a puff of white air. He could see his breath. _He could see his breath_. Taking another deep breath, Dean called out, "DAD!"


	6. Angry Spirit

**Hey guys. I'm really sorry, but I got sick and I won't be posting as frequently because I have to rest. I promise I'll be back to writing when I can!**

 **Thank you _emelie0204_ , _Kas3y_ , and _Karen Winchester_ for the continued support. I appreciate your reviews!  
**

* * *

Sam didn't know how long he was alone in the woods. He wasn't sure if it was hours, days, or even weeks. He became very familiar with the surrounding woods, and since he couldn't go too far away from his body, Sam tried to move it. Unluckily for Sam, he couldn't quite figure out how to become corporeal yet. Any attempt at pushing his form ended with Sam's arm going through his unmoving form. Why Sam couldn't move or touch his corporeal body but could lean against a tree was a mystery to him.

It was leaning against a tree that Sam first heard it: the sound of leaves crunching under boots. Was there someone there? Sam wasn't too close to his body - he didn't like looking at it - so he couldn't move any farther away. His curiosity was peaked; nothing interesting happened in the woods, and now there was a person? Who the hell would be out here?

Sam thought he would die all over again. Walking through the underbrush towards him was none other than Dean.

"Dean! How did you find me? I'm so happy to see you! Are you mad I lost your homemade EMF detector? I swear I'll never make fun of it again. Where..." Sam trailed off as Dean walked right past him without so much as a glance. Sam's heart sank. Dean couldn't see him. Dean didn't know he was there. To be honest, Dean looked like shit.

Shoulders hunched, hands shoved into leather jacket pockets, Dean looked defeated. Dark circles were prominent under dull, lifeless eyes that didn't stray too far from the ground. Sam fell into step behind his brother wondering just how long it had been since he left his brother in the airport.

"Dean? You need to see me. Dean, I'm right here next to you. Dean?" Sam's efforts were in vain. His brother showed no sign of acknowledging his presence.

Dean's footsteps slowed. He shuffled over to a patch of moss and sat down, leaning against a tree. Sam started pacing in front of Dean, growing agitated. "Why can't you see me? I'm right here, Dean. I'm RIGHT HERE!" The temperature started to drop as Sam became more agitated. "I need to find Jessica's killer, but I can't do that while I'm tied to my body. You're a hunter, can't you-"

Sam was cut off by an explosion of movement. Dean was on his feet in a flash, eyes darting back and forth. A quick breath showed a cloud of white, and Dean's eyes got impossibly wider. He turned around and yelled, "DAD!"

Turning back around, Dean started to move slowly, cautiously, eyes scanning the surrounding woods. "Sammy?"

Sam sighed in relief. "Dean. I knew you would find-"

"Sammy, are you there?" Dean had a box in his hand now. Salt.

"Dean, I'm here. Can't you... see... me?" Sam's voice trailed off as he realized his brother could not see him. The only indication Sam was there was the cold air.

More footsteps. John appeared a few second later. "Dean, what is it?" Seeing the white cloud of air form as he talked, John pulled out a gun from his waistband. "Sam?"

Dean nodded. "I think so, but he won't show himself."

Sam clenched his hands into fists. "I'm TRYING to show you I'm here, but you won't LISTEN!"

With a surge of anger, Sam punched the tree to his left. Much to his surprise, his hand didn't go through the tree. In fact, his hand left a dent in the bark and caused the whole tree to lean a little to the left. The two older Winchesters turned to the tree, hands tightening on their respective weapons. Sam noticed Dean also had a gun now.

"Sam?" Dean slowly walked towards the tree, his eyebrows rising when he saw the dent in the tree. "Dad, look at this. It's a small dent in the tree."

Sam looked from his hand to the tree. If he could punch trees, maybe he could... Reaching out, Sam tried to touch Dean's shoulder. His hand went straight through. Frustrated, Sam leaned back his head and let out a scream.

When Sam looked back, Dean and John were lying on the ground.

* * *

Dean didn't know what was happening. One second he was examining a tree which he was fairly sure was _punched_ , and the next second he was thrown by who knows what through the air, his gun flying away from him. Now Dean was pushing himself onto his elbows and surveying the area. Whatever this was, it definitely wasn't-

"Sam." John gasped. Dean looked over to his dad. John was gawking at... what?

Dean followed his dad's gaze, and his mouth dropped. There, looking back at him, was Sam. Well, not exactly Sam. He kept flickering; Sam was a spirit.

"S-Sam?" Dean slowly got to his feet. Spirit Sam was looking as bewildered as John. "Sammy, can you hear me?"

"Dean? You can see me?" Spirit Sam flickered. "Dad? What're you doing here?"

John got to his feet and tried to compose his features. "Sam, what happened? Where's your..." He trailed off, not sure how to approach the subject of Sam's body.

Spirit Sam grimaced. "I tried, dad. I really tried, but I couldn't, I mean, I didn't, I wasn't..." Spirit Sam was getting worked up. "I failed!"

Spirit Sam was flickering less frequently, but Dean wasn't so sure that was a good thing. "Sam, you didn't fail. You, you were braver than me-"

"And look where that got me! I'm DEAD, Dean. I had a good life at Stanford, and then the both of you had to go and ruin that for me. Now my body is decaying in the underbrush over there and I'm stuck haunting this small patch of woods because I can't go to rest without avenging Jessica!" Spirit Sam was breathing heavily, the wind had picked up significantly, and Dean was wondering if his brother's ghost was going to kill him.

Dean tried to calm Spirit Sam down. "Sam-"

"No, I will not calm down! I will not talk about how I need to let go, and I will not rest until the yellow-eyed demon is dead!" Sam turned on John, his look of anger turning to one of pure unadulterated rage.

John had picked up his dropped gun and was now pointing it at Spirit Sam. "I'm sorry son." With that, John fired his gun.

Spirit Sam was gone, at least for the time being.

"C'mon Dean. We have to salt and burn your brother's remains before he comes back. Rock salt won't keep him away forever."


	7. Salt and Burn

**Hey guys! I'm glad to be back. A really big thank you to** _ **Kas3y**_ **for your well-wishes, I really appreciated them.**

 **Enough said, here's the fic!**

* * *

"No, I will not calm down! I will not talk about how I need to let go, and I will not rest until the yellow-eyed demon is dead!" Sam turned on John, his look of anger turning to one of pure unadulterated rage.

Sam saw red. John, his father, was holding a gun to him. What dad shoots his son?

John had the gall to offer a piss poor "I'm sorry son." Sorry? Sorry for dragging him into the hunting life in the first place or sorry that Sam was dead now and couldn't hunt anymore?

Sam felt an intense pain in his abdomen, and the next thing he knew he was standing a few feet away from his corporeal body. John _shot him_. Instead of trying to help Sam get out of there so he could avenge Jessica, John shot him full of rock salt, and it _hurt_.

Sam wanted to get back to where his father was, now.

Sam's surroundings changed. Looking around, Sam saw the tree he punched earlier still leaning to the side. He teleported! A quick look around showed John and Dean weren't there, and Sam had one guess as to where they'd be going.

Focusing, Sam popped back to his body. His dad and brother weren't there yet, so they must either still be looking for his body or they ran back to the car to get the proper materials. Sam didn't want to be salted and burned; he didn't know what happened to those spirits, and he honestly didn't want to find out. Hearing the crunching of leaves, Sam tensed. _Here they come_.

Dean and John came barreling through the trees, skidding to a stop when they saw Sam. John lifted his gun.

"Going to shoot me again? I knew you didn't like me, but I didn't realize you hated me." Sam snarled. John paused, his finger hovering over the trigger. Sensing his hesitation, Sam softened his tone and pleaded with the two elder Winchesters. "All I want is to help you guys find the yellow-eyed demon. Why won't you let me do this one last thing? Let me go out with a win instead of a failed exorcism on an airplane."

Dean took a step forward. "Sam, we _do_ want to help you. All we want is for you to finally be at peace. I know you were never happy here, and I'm sorry you were stuck in the hunting life, but you finally have a chance to get out of it. I hate that this happened, but don't you want to be happy?"

Sam narrowed his eyes. "I'll be happy when Jessica is avenged. Our _entire lives_ we've hunted this thing down, and now, when I can really help, you want to sideline me. This is-"

Pain, and then his surroundings changed. John shot him again! Sam looked around him. He was in a motel with fading floral wallpaper and papers everywhere. Sam was back at the motel him and Dean were sharing. Why the hell was he there, unless...

Sam wasn't just attached to his dead body; he was also attached to an object! It didn't matter if he was salted and burned now because he had a way out. Sam thought back to the woods and teleported back there.

The first thing Sam noticed was the smell: gasoline. Then he saw Dean throwing salt on his body. With a yell, Sam ran at his brother and knocked him over. Dean grunted with the impact as he landed on the ground.

"Dean, I have to tell you something. I-" Sam stopped. He was back at the motel. What the hell happened? Sam tried to teleport back to the woods, but he couldn't. With a heavy undead heart, Sam realized his body had been burned.

* * *

Dean grunted as he was thrown to the ground. Sam was leaning over him, flickering in and out. "Dean... to tell... I..." Dean looked over and saw his dad throw a match onto Sam's body. Looking back up, Sam was gone.

"Is... is he gone?" Dean asked, sitting up slowly. John nodded.

"Yeah. He's gone."

The car ride back to the motel was silent. Neither Dean nor John knew what to say. When they got back to the motel, Dean fumbled to put the keys in the lock. Opening the door, Dean walked over to the couch and flopped down.

John broke the silence first. "Dean..." His voice trailed off.

Dean sighed. "What do you want me to say, dad? I just got my brother back, and now he's gone again, and it's all my fault. And don't even try to say it isn't! If I had just gotten on the plane with Sam-"

"Then you both could be dead." John stoically answered. "I know what happened is horrible, but the demon that caused the plane to crash is still out there, Dean. We can't save Sam, but we can avenge him."

Dean was quiet, pensive. Avenge Sam? That wasn't too probable right now, considering their success rate with avenging his mom. Ouch, too soon. Moving on. Avenging Sam meant finding the demon that killed him. If Dean found the demon that killed Sam, he could offer it a deal! It was Dean's fault Sam died, so he could make it all better by offering it his own soul in return for Sam's. No, that'd be stupid. Sam is already in heaven; Dean wouldn't want to take that away from him. But what if Sam wasn't in heaven? What if salting and burning his bones sent him to a different, less friendly place. Sam could be living an undead nightmare right now!

Steeling his resolve, Dean turned to John. "Let's gank that son of a bitch."


	8. High Tensions

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural**

 **Sorry for not posting in so long, I'll try to get this next chapter up faster ~**

 _ **Kas3y**_ **: I agree, and that'll be touched upon in later chapters.**

* * *

Sam was floating in the corner when he heard someone fumbling to open the door. Dean and John walked into the motel room filling the air with tension. Sam watched Dean plop onto the couch and rolled his eyes at the two elder Winchesters. No one wanted to start the conversation because they were too manly. Typical.

John broke the silence first. "Dean..." His voice trailed off. Great start. Very concise.

Dean sighed. "What do you want me to say, dad? I just got my brother back, and now he's gone again, and it's all my fault." Sam shook his head. It wasn't Dean's fault. Sam's the one who failed. "And don't even try to say it isn't! If I had just gotten on the plane with Sam-"

"Then you both could be dead." John stoically answered. "I know what happened is horrible, but the demon that caused the plane to crash is still out there, Dean. We can't save Sam, but we can avenge him."

Sam got antsy at the word 'avenge.' His whole afterlife was based off his revenge, and now his dad wants to halt looking for his mom's killer - Jessica's killer - to find some lower class demon? Sam did not expect his dad to suggest stopping the hunt for the yellow-eyed demon, not after all they'd been through.

Dean's silence spoke wonders about the inner struggle he was going through. Sam hoped Dean would say to go after Jessica's killer, but he also knew that if Dean thought Sam's death was his fault he would want to go after the demon that caused it.

Dean turned to look at John so Sam couldn't see his face, but his shoulders were set. "Let's gank that son of a bitch."

Damn it.

* * *

Being dead, Sam had no notion of time passing. He paced the motel room for what could've been minutes, hours, or days - the latter two being the most likely - as he waited for Dean and John to get back from a hunt. Sam was restless, but restless didn't do anything for him. He figured out he can only move object while he's either infuriatingly angry or completely calm, and Sam was agitated at most.

Suddenly the motel room door burst open and in paraded Dean and John. The air was thick with tension as John shut the door and Dean dropped the weapons bag on table. John leaned against the shut door and glowered at nothing in particular.

"We were so CLOSE!" John accentuated the last word by turning and punching the wall to his left.

Dean flinched. "Dad-"

John turned to Dean. "No! We were on that son of a bitch's heels and the trail suddenly went cold! The bodies stopped dropping and the demonic signs ceased, so we have no clue where it went!"

"Shouldn't we at least be glad people stopped dying?" Dean growled. "You know Sam wouldn't want those people to die to avenge him!"

John went stiff. "I'm going for a drink."

* * *

The only sound in the motel room was a soft snore coming from the bed closest to the door. The slivers of moonlight peeking through the closed curtains illuminated a sole figure facing the window. His jaw was set; his eyes were hard. The figure was unmoving except for the slight rise and fall of his chest. In his hand was a small pocketknife with the initials S.W.

Sam was floating in the corner watching Dean. His brother had waited for his dad to fall asleep before opening the side table drawer and pulling out the pocketknife. Sam watched Dean hold the pocketknife and wondered what was going through the elder Winchester's head. Was Dean thinking of the 'good old days' or was he getting ready to join Sam in the afterlife? Sam had no intention of letting the latter happen, but he wasn't too sure it was the former. Dean didn't look like he was reliving any happy memories.

Like a guardian angel, Sam watched over his brother until the sun crested over the horizon. Dean shut the pocketknife back into the side table drawer and laid awake until John stirred. After John shut the bathroom door, Dean mechanically climbed out of bed and got dressed. He was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of bad motel coffee in his hands when John opened the bathroom door, a cloud of steam flooding past him.

Rubbing a towel through his still-wet hair, John plopped down at the table. "Coffee?"

Dean placed a mug in front of John, the contents still steaming.

The room was silent as the two men drank their coffee. Sam paced the room. What were they doing? Shouldn't they be out looking for Jessica's killer? They should at least be looking for Sam's killer so they can get over their most recent revenge and get back to the _whole reason they started hunting in the first place_.

Sam looked at the table and did a double take. Dean and John were gone! Sam looked out the window. The sky was a mix of pinks, purples, and blues. Sunset. The entire day had passed and Sam didn't notice. Sam had to stop spacing out as much or else he'd never get his revenge against the yellow-eyed demon.

Sam decided the only way to stop letting time pass without him was to interact with his surroundings. Sam grabbed the kitchen chairs and pushed them in. Would Dean or John notice if the chairs were suddenly pushed in? Sam pulled the chairs back out just in case. They were hunters after all.

Sam spent the next few hours picking up and placing objects back where they were so as to remain active yet not to alert his family to his existence.

The door to the motel room opened as the clock hit two in the morning. Dean and John stumbled in and both Winchesters slid to the floor, backs leaning against the wall. Sam helped shut the partially open door.

Labored breath filled the room. "Are... you..." The voice trailed off.

"...Peachy..."

Someone reached up and flicked the lights on. Sam's eyes grew wide as he took in the sight before him. Both men were bloody. Dean's arm had a bloody bandage on it and blood matted his blonde hair. John didn't look too much better off. His left eye was swollen shut and Sam thought John had a few broken fingers. Whatever happened, it wasn't in favor of the Winchesters.

"C'mon. We... have to... clean... and change... your... bandage." John gasped. He must also have a bruised, if not broken, rib or two.

Dean slowly got to his feet and staggered into the bathroom where he plopped down on the toilet. He began untying the bandage on his arm as John pulled out a new bandage along with some medicine. Sam grimaced when he saw Dean's arm uncovered; three horizontal slashes decorated Dean's arm along with crusty, dried blood. As John cleaned the wound, Sam could see the slashes were clean. At least Dean's arm would heal with minimal scarring.

Sam wondered what the hell had happened outside the motel walls.

Bandage replaced and pain killer swallowed, Dean shakily stood up and slowly made his way to the bed furthest from the door. Flopping onto the bed, Dean gave into exhaustion and fell asleep without bothering to take his dirty hunting clothes off. John quickly followed suit.

As the two elder Winchesters lay sleeping, the youngest Winchester looked through the weapons bag to figure out what the hunt was about. Sam found one handgun, three bloody machetes, a small hunting knife, one needle filled with a dark red liquid, and one empty needle which might have held a red liquid at some point. It looked to Sam like the hunt-gone-wrong was a hunt for vampires.

Sam felt a surge of anger. Vampires? Why the hell were Dean and his dad hunting vampires when Jessica's killer - and Sam's killer - were still at large? What was the point of taking on this pointless, and apparently dangerous, hunt when there was a much bigger problem at hand? If Dean and John couldn't handle a simple vampire hunt, then how were they going to be able to stop the yellow-eyed demon?

The motel got complaints of faulty electrical that night as the lights flickered and the televisions weren't working.


	9. Found Out

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.**

 **Thank you _Kas3y_ for the review!**

* * *

Sam opened the laptop and looked for any signs of demonic activity. Dean and John were on another side case. They were off on a "simple salt and burn." As if anything was ever simple. Sam's fingers fell through the keyboard. Right, keep a clear and calm head if you want to use the laptop. Sam closed his eyes, counted to five, and tried to type again. His finger hit the keyboard and the letter "j" popped up in the search bar. Good, now Sam just had to stay calm as he searched for the location of the yellow-eyed demon. Easy.

After what Sam assumed had been a couple of hours by the brightening of the night sky, he found it. Cattle mutilations, crop failures, and electric storms were all hitting Sandy, Utah. That's where the yellow-eyed demon must be.

* * *

Dean drove back to the motel around four in the morning. The hunt didn't go quite as planned, as if they ever do. The guy was paranoid of grave robbing, so he had a fake grave and a real one. Of course Dean and John dug up the fake one first. A fifty-fifty chance and they got the wrong one. Then they had to fill the grave back up, find the other grave, and dig that one up as well. But the other grave was unmarked, so they had to look at pictures of the funeral to find the tree he was buried by. Even worse, when they started digging, the undead man himself decided he didn't want to be put to rest so he started throwing Dean and John around. It had been quite the night.

All Dean wanted now was to go to sleep and not wake up for days, but they had to be on the road by six. Parking the car, Dean opened the driver's side door and immediately went up to the motel room. His dad followed quickly behind him.

Something felt off as Dean entered the motel room. He couldn't explain what it was, but he had a tiny siren going off in his tired mind. His dad didn't look alarmed, so Dean ignored it and blamed the feeling on tired paranoia.

* * *

Dean woke up with a start. He glanced at the clock and jumped up. 5:45 AM. He overslept! Dean looked over at the other bed and his eyes widened. His dad was gone! He leapt out of bed and-

John was sitting at the table staring at the computer screen. His expression was blank, and he made no move to acknowledge Dean in any way. Dean pulled on his jeans and slowly walked up to his dad, making sure to make noise so as to not startle the older hunter.

"Dad?" Dean walked behind John to see what he was looking at. Several different newspapers and articles were pulled up, and they were all talking about this one town in Utah. What was so special about Utah?

"Dean." Dean jumped at the sound of his dad's voice. It cracked with lack of use. "Did... did you look this up on the laptop?"

Dean's heart jumped and he heard his heart pounding in his ears. "No, the laptop was off when we left last night, and I haven't touched it since we got back this morning."

The room filled with silence as the two Winchesters stared at the screen.

"Dad, we have to go. Can't stay in town after the hunt is finished you know." John didn't move. "Do you want to go check out Utah?"

Dean was pinned against the wall fast enough to make his head spin. He was reminded again of why he never tried to piss his dad off.

"Don't you get it?! Someone was in our room! Someone threw us a bone, Dean. Someone is trying to mess with our heads. From the looks of it, it seems like they're leading us straight to the yellow-eyed demon. Why? Why would someone tell us exactly where your mother's killer is if not to lead us into a trap?! Hell, the articles could be fakes as well!" John was breathing heavy; his face was red. Dean saw the mask of anger, but he could see the fear underneath. What was his dad so afraid of?

"Why are you so afraid?" Dean expected to be clocked across the face, but instead, John stumbled backwards.

"Y-you had to have seen the signs." John turned away from Dean, his arms crossing in front of his chest defensively. "You had to have noticed he's still here."

Dean's heart stopped, and his voice shook as he asked, "Who's here?"

John turned back to look at Dean, his face full of anguish. There was such a look of heartbreak on the elder Winchester's face that Dean wished he hadn't asked.

"Your brother."

The lights flickered.

"B-but we burned the body. We put Sammy to rest! H-he's not still here."

John shook his head. "You're too good of a hunter to have not noticed. You chose to ignore it as I did. Every motel we go to is cold. So cold I've seen frost of the window frames. The crappy T.V. has been nonexistent in every motel we visit; too much static. The car radio cuts out, and I've personally checked the Impala for any electrical damage. Nothing. And you can't deny that you've seen a wispy figure in the corner of a motel room at least once! I've tried to go against my instincts, I wanted to believe we had helped Sam move on, but the truth is I didn't want to let go. I didn't want to acknowledge Sam was here because I didn't want to have to lose my son again. But now," John motioned to the laptop, "now there is no refuting it. Sam found the demon that killed your mother, and he wants us to go after it."

Dean glanced at the wispy figure by the table. He had been trying to convince himself that it was a trick of the light, or that he was just really tired, but his dad was right. Sam's spirit was still with them.

In a whisper, Dean asked, "What do we do? Burn all of Sam's belongings? I'll have nothing left of him. Nothing."

John glanced at the table, at Sam, as well. "I think we better finish this conversation outside."


	10. The End

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.**

 **Thank you** _ **Kas3y**_ **for the review and the continued support of 'Phantom Traveler AU!' You get brownie points~**

 **PREPARE FOR SOME MAJOR FEELS *you've been warned***

* * *

"I don't think we have to burn everything." John glanced at the motel room door. "Let's move to the car. I don't want him hearing this."

Dean climbed into the passenger seat of the Impala. Sam's seat. He turned to his dad. "What were you saying?"

John took a deep breath to steady himself. "Spirits aren't attached to all their past belongings; they're attached to a single object. If we could find out what object Sam's attached to, we could send him off without burning all our memories with him."

Dean furrowed his brow. "How will we figure that out? Sam doesn't - didn't - exactly tell us what he had an emotional connection with, and he's the sentimental type."

"What happens every time we get close to an object the spirit is attached to on a hunt?" John asked.

Dean thought about it. "Uh, we get thrown across the room?"

"Exactly. Spirits are protective of the object they are attached to, so we just need to let Sam know we are putting him to rest and start picking up his past belongings." John opened the driver's side door. "Let's go."

Dean felt uneasy. He followed his dad back to the motel room, all the while hating that he had to make his brother angry at him.

"Sam? We know you're here, son. Show yourself." John called out as he shut the door.

Spirit Sam appeared at the foot of Dean's bed, flickering in and out. "Now what? You're going to shoot me full of rock salt?"

"No, Sammy, it's not like that!" Dean's voice was full of hurt. He didn't want Sam's last memory of him to be betrayal. "We just want to talk."

Spirit Sam looked suspicious. C'mon Sam, show us what your object is.

Spirit Sam sat down. "What do you have to say? You burned my body; you can't come back from that." He looked off into the distance. "I just want to avenge Jessica."

"Sam." John's voice snapped Spirit Sam back. "You can't kill a demon as a spirit. Only one thing can do that: the gun created by Samuel Colt. You need to let it go, son."

Spirit Sam stopped flickering. A look of pure rage greeted the elder two Winchesters. "Let it go?! It's your refusal to let it go that got all of us into the hunting life in the first place! You seemed to have no problem letting it go after I died, though." There was a gust of wind swirling around in the motel, and the lights were flickering. Every breath was accentuated by a puff of white in the cold air. "It seems like I am the only one who cares about finding the yellow-eyed demon anymore! He wasn't too hard to track down, if you actually tried."

John narrowed his eyes. "Sam." He growled. "Don't you _dare_ -"

"Don't I dare what?! You can't tell me what to do anymore, dad. I'm DEAD. Or are you going to keep shooting me with rock salt until I do what you say?" Spirit Sam waved his hand and the gun John was pulling out of his waistband flew from his hands. "Just like before, when you were dead set on finding my body, you're going to shoot me away to fix your problems. Is that all I am to you? A problem? I'm trying to _help_ , so let me help, damn it!"

"Sam!" Spirit Sam turned his attention to Dean. "I thought you went to heaven. I thought you were finally at peace. Do you know how it makes a big brother feel when his little brother is hurting? You're hurting, Sam. You're hurting and it's my fault. This all started when I was too chicken to go on the plane with you. If you are going to be mad at anyone, it should be me."

Spirit Sam flickered. "Dean. I don't blame you for what happened."

Dean shook his head and sighed. "But you should, Sammy. If I had gone on the plane with you, we could've defeated the demon together. Demons are above our paygrade. You never should've had to do that alone. Let me help you this last time."

Spirit Sam flickered and reappeared next to Dean's nightstand. "It's here."

Dean walked over and opened his nightstand. Inside were the motel's bible and an old pocketknife with the initials S.W.

"Your old pocketknife?" Dean picked it up and looked at Spirit Sam quizzically. "Why?"

Spirit Sam smiled sadly. "It was the first knife you ever gave me. You saved up to get my initials engraved on the side. It means a lot to me."

Dean held back tears. "It means a lot to me, too."

Spirit Sam flickered twice and disappeared from view. Dean knew Sam was still there, the room was still freezing, but Sam was obviously trying to make it easier by not showing himself.

Dean turned to his dad. "Let's give Sam a proper goodbye."

* * *

Dean watched the flames swallow up Sam's pocketknife with a heavy heart. He didn't lose his brother once; he lost his brother three times. The third time losing Sam seemed much worse than the other two times. This time, it was official. Sam was not coming back. No deals could be made to save him, no loopholes could be used.

Sam was dead.

* * *

Bobby struck a match and threw it onto the pyre. As he watched the flames grow, a lone tear slide down the gruff hunter's cheek. Bobby had known his boys were close, but he didn't realize until too late that one could not live without the other.


End file.
